


The Best Days of their Lives

by Daegaer



Series: The Best Days of their Lives [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Children, Demons, Half-Human, M/M, Snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-21
Updated: 2004-11-21
Packaged: 2020-06-11 03:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19524673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley cannot give up Crowley's unexpected clutch.





	The Best Days of their Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louise_lux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise_lux/gifts).



> Long ago,[ **louiselux**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise_lux/pseuds/louise_lux) wrote the delightful [_Baby Snakes_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19305151), and expressed a little wish that someone would write a fic with a different ending for it. So I did, and as she said I could post it, here it now is. The first italicised section is from Louise's lovely story.

_'What am I going to do with them?' moaned Crowley. 'I can’t bring them up.'_  
'Why not? I'm sure you'd make a fine parent, if you put your mind to it.'  
'I'm a demon. _We don't do pocket money and packed lunches. You'll have to do it!'_  
'Me? I rather think not, my dear boy.'  
'Why not?'  
'They're yours. _What about the father?'_  
'Shutup!'

Crowley sagged all over, giving the impression that his shoulders had slumped as far as physically possible, which was impressive considering he currently didn't have shoulders. Aziraphale hardened his heart and went back into the sitting room. Together they watched the babies creep out of their shells and turn to look at Crowley, who hissed and moved to them, touching them gently with the very tip of his tongue.

* * *

A couple of days later Aziraphale got a phone call just as he had settled down with a nice cup of tea to watch _Neighbours._

'Can you come over?' Crowley said. 'I'm going crazy, I need to get out of the flat.'

'Are you still a snake?' Aziraphale said.

'No. What makes you ask?' Crowley said in a suddenly far less sibilant voice.

'I'll be right over,' Aziraphale said, thinking it would be a real shame to let Crowley's widescreen TV go to waste. 'I'll pick up a few things on the way, shall I?'

'Just don't go into a bookshop,' Crowley said, 'I need to see you today.'

He was taken aback to see the condition Crowley had let himself get into. The demon was looking more than a little untidy; in fact Aziraphale would have to call him scruffy. It usually took an awful lot of alcohol to make him look anything other than pristine, yet he appeared to be sober. Aziraphale took himself off to the kitchen and made them both a cup of coffee and arranged the sandwiches and cakes he had bought on plates. He then sat back astounded as Crowley ate his way through the lot. It took some fancy sleight of hand for Aziraphale to get even one little custard tart.

'You haven't been eating,' he said accusingly.

Crowley shook his head and eyed the empty plates wistfully.

'Where are they?' Aziraphale said.

'Asleep,' Crowley sighed. 'Finally. They're on the settee.'

Aziraphale went to look. The babies were curled up in a little black knot on a cushion. Crowley came up beside him and looked at them with a very strange expression on his face.

'I can't do it, Aziraphale,' he said. 'I can't even get through a week. There's no way I can carry on. They've got to go.'

'Go?' Aziraphale said, 'What do you mean?'

'Into the wild, fend for themselves, that sort of thing,' Crowley said tonelessly.

'They're _babies_ ,' Aziraphale said. 'You can't be serious.'

'I'm not exactly parental material,' Crowley said harshly. 'It'd be better for all of us.' He turned away quickly, muttering 'I'm going out for a while. Can you hold the fort?'

Aziraphale sighed. 'Yes,' he said. 'Go on.'

When Crowley had left Aziraphale tidied up a bit, then sat on the far end of the settee watching the little knot of snakes. One of them woke up and looked around, its lidless eyes finally coming to rest on him. Aziraphale thought it seemed disappointed and smiled gamely at it.

'Come on, then,' he said, patting his knee.

The little snake hesitantly uncoiled itself and slid over to him, shyly slithering up into his lap. He stroked it with one gentle finger and it cuddled against him. When Crowley came back five hours later Aziraphale had all four of the babies held safely on his lap and was telling them about 18th century silver hallmarkings.

'You're not abandoning them,' he said firmly.

* * *

It wasn't as easy to be a parent as the commercials suggested, Aziraphale thought. Children didn't seem to have the same attitude to reasonable debate that he did, and _these_ children were wilful and disobedient as well. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised by that. The babies slithered round the shop and his flat and wouldn't come when they were called unless they were hungry. When they were hungry they drank bowl after bowl of milk, and didn't care if he had any left for his tea. It was when he discovered they had made a nest for themselves out of paper – thankfully from that morning's _Telegraph_ – that Aziraphale knew he was out of his depth. He rushed straight to the nearest pet shop and bought a book on caring for snakes, a large glass tank and every single thing the assistant suggested. It was all delivered that same day, and he set the tank up facing his TV then decoyed the babies out with some nice warm cocoa. One by one they were popped into their new home, and looked sadly at him through the glass. He felt his resolve melt and then thought of the shredded newspaper and his precious books and turned on CBBC for them instead.

Crowley was horrified. He breezed in, as immaculate as he'd always been before and froze at the sight that greeted him. Then he darted over, throwing off the lid of the tank and lifting the babies out carefully. The little snakes twisted around his hands, hissing softly.

'What's he been doing to you?' Crowley said, 'Isn't he a silly angel?' He glared at Aziraphale as the babies slithered all over him. 'Why are you keeping my children in a cage?' he asked icily.

Aziraphale reminded himself that Crowley had been under a lot of stress recently and that it wouldn't do any good to snap at him.

'It's a playpen,' he said casually. 'They're just _babies_ , Crowley. They need somewhere safe and secure where they can be cosy while I'm working. Don't you think?'

Crowley looked at him and at the tank dubiously. 'I suppose,' he said. 'But I don't want you using the TV as a babysitter – I hope you don't have them watching the Teletubbies?'

Aziraphale adopted what he hoped was a suitably scornful expression. 'My dear! I normally show them tapes of opera or the RSC. I was – er – just trying to find a news programme when you came in.'

Crowley scowled, then gently deposited the babies back in the tank and hung over it, watching them silently. Aziraphale thought it best to say nothing.

* * *

It happened two weeks later. Aziraphale was watching _Newsround_ with two of the babies on his lap, another was nosing at a small brightly coloured ball on the floor and the fourth was plaintively looking up at the table where he had put a bowl of milk they hadn't quite finished.

'In a minute, dear,' Aziraphale said. He thought it was good for them to see the news, although he was careful not to allow them to watch upsetting things on the adult bulletins. He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and looked round quickly. There was a small naked boy trying to reach the milk on the table. Aziraphale shot upright, only just remembering to catch the others as they fell.

' _Bugg_ – um. Bother,' he said.

The little boy jumped in startlement and fell over, landing quite hard. He opened his mouth and wailed loudly, than stopped and blinked in surprise, just once. He giggled and began running through sounds. Aziraphale picked him up gently, glad to discover he'd only had a fright. He was dark haired and had yellow eyes, although not quite as acid yellow as Crowley's. A faint pattern of scales ran over his hands and arms. The little boy smiled at Aziraphale, hissed softly and then wound his arms round his neck. Aziraphale held on helplessly and saw the others were watching them very closely.

'Oh dear,' he said.

By the end of the week he had four small boys tottering round his flat on wobbly, unsteady legs, and he was at his wit's end. He'd had to move everything up onto the highest shelves, was trying to teach them to eat with knives and forks and had a continual headache from the shrieks. He wasn't too sure how old they were in human terms, maybe three or four, he estimated. He had guiltily created clothes for one of them and had then run out to buy four sets in the same size, but the shop assistant assured him that the sizes on children's clothes had less to do with ages that he might suspect.

Crowley wasn't home. He wasn't answering any of his phones, and appeared to have vanished from the face of the earth. Aziraphale was not amused. The children – he really couldn't call them 'babies' anymore – were a demanding bunch. They wailed if they were left alone, they wailed if they didn't get what they wanted at meals, they wailed if he turned over from their cartoons. He was getting no work done, he hadn't read for pleasure in what seemed like an age and he was terrified for his books. They were only quiet when they were asleep or sitting on his lap, for both of which activities they seemed to prefer being snakes and would curl up into a scaly little ball. Aziraphale was seriously considering keeping them asleep for a week.

'Teatime!' he called one day, and the children came running. 'Have you washed your hands?' he asked and they held up their little pink hands for him to inspect. He smiled. You could barely see the scale pattern anymore. 'Now, lovely fish fingers and potato waffles,' he said as he lifted them one at a time onto the chairs piled high with cushions.

As he lifted the last boy the child turned a bright smile on him and said, 'Daddy.'

Aziraphale looked at him in astonishment and set him carefully on the chair. 'No, dear,' he whispered, 'I'm just --' A fist seemed to close around his heart as the children grinned up at him. 'Yes,' he said in a faint voice. 'Yes, I'm your Daddy.' He took a deep breath and stroked their hair. 'Eat your tea, dears,' he said. 'It'll get cold.'  


* * *

Crowley reappeared a month later.

'Where have you _been?_ ' Aziraphale whined into the phone. 'I've been trying and trying to reach you.'

'Spain,' Crowley said. 'I brought you some wine. It was nice and warm, and the food's so good and cheap I really don't know why I bother staying in England.'

'Crowley!' Aziraphale said, 'aren't you forgetting something?'

'How are the children?' Crowley said in a rather bored voice.

'They've come on in leaps and bounds,' Aziraphale said, wincing at a crash from upstairs. 'You should come round, you'd hardly recognise them,' he said maliciously.

He spent the rest of the afternoon annoyed both with Crowley and himself. _Really_ , he thought, _if they were_ my _children I wouldn't have run away for so long and I'd have asked about them every chance I'd got_. Then he berated himself for not telling Crowley about the children's new accomplishment. What if Crowley was angry and stormed off, never to return? What if he took the children away?

He was giving the boys their tea when the impatient ringing came at the shop door.

'Keep eating,' he said, and went down to let Crowley in.

'So where are they?' Crowley asked casually, following him up the stairs. 'They'd better not still be in that tank, let me tell you.' His voice died away as four pairs of yellow eyes turned his way.

'Shit!' Crowley yelled.

The children scooted off their chairs and hid behind Aziraphale, who felt rather like hiding as well.

'Shit,' Crowley repeated in a slightly less venomous tone.

'Daddy,' one of the boys whispered, grabbing Aziraphale's hand fearfully.

Crowley went very still. 'Why is he calling you "Daddy"?' he asked. 'What have you been telling them?'

'Nothing,' Aziraphale snapped, holding on tight to the small hand in his. 'Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they never see you.'

Crowley glared at him and snapped his fingers at the children. 'You lot. Over here, now,' he said.

The children shrank back even more and Aziraphale stepped forward protectively. 'You're scaring them,' he said.

'I am not,' Crowley hissed loudly. He seemed to consider something, and went on more quietly. 'I didn't mean to.' He bent down, and then got down on his knees, making himself less imposing to a child's eye. 'Come on, kids,' he said coaxingly, 'come on.' He took off his sunglasses and smiled at them hopefully. 'Don't you remember me?'

Aziraphale winced at the need in his voice, and stepped aside, patting the children's heads. 'It's all right,' he said to them, 'you know him, he was the first person you ever saw.'

They inched forward, hissing nervously. Crowley was hissing softly too, Aziraphale realised, but he thought it kinder not to draw attention to the fact. The bravest of the boys sidled up within reach and smiled back at Crowley, and the next instant they were all throwing their arms around him and hissing 'Daddy, Daddy,' in excited tones. Aziraphale turned away. He couldn't bear to see Crowley's expression for a second longer. He knew he'd looked the same. He had never been tempted by the lure of human lovers, though he could see their bright mortal attraction, much like any angel. Now he was regretting that, having had the children around him, showing him a different kind of immortality. He got himself under control. They weren't his, they were Crowley's, and he wouldn't be allowed keep them now.

'Have you forgotten how to be snakes?' Crowley was laughing, and Aziraphale listened to the childish giggles stop and become simple hisses. 'Gotcha!' Crowley said. 'Quick, Aziraphale, where's that tank?'

He turned to see the little snakes wriggling free of Crowley's grasp and slithering away at high speed while Crowley stood there laughing proudly at them.

'They like to sleep in it,' Aziraphale said, in what he was sure was his normal voice. 'They like to curl up as snakes, and they like a bowl of cocoa. They like to watch cartoons, and have fish fingers for their tea – they like BurgerLord, but only as a treat, I don't approve of it. They – they need names. I've been calling them Matthew, Mark –,' his voice died away under Crowley's sceptical expression. 'Well, you catch my drift. Anyway, I'm sure you don't approve. Um. Your stereo – you're really going to have to put that up in a wall unit, or something. And--.'

'Hold on a minute,' Crowley said. 'Kids! Time to play hide and seek! I'm going to count to five hundred and come find you!'

There was a slithery sound of movement going into the next room.

'We'll never find them,' Aziraphale muttered, 'I could have told you that was a bad idea.'

'You look miserable,' Crowley said. 'You think I've swept in here to take away your new toys, don't you?'

'They're not toys!' Aziraphale said in utter shock. 'Crowley! I'm surprised at you!'

Crowley looked at him seriously, and ran a hand through his hair. He picked his glasses up from the chair where he'd tossed them and put them on again.

'I'll tell you why I went to Spain, shall I?' he said. 'I was jealous. I saw you running round taking care of them, and I wanted them back. But that wouldn't have looked good would it? And they really were a lot of work, and I enjoyed an unburdened life more. I'm sure you've wanted to throttle me over the last few weeks, but it hasn't been all bad, has it?'

'No,' Aziraphale said quietly, 'it hasn't.'

Crowley moved closer and dropped his voice. 'But that's not the whole reason I went. I wanted them back, Aziraphale, but they're mortal. You do know that, don't you? I have no idea how long a lifespan they'd have if they were ordinary snakes, and with me added in to the mix I suppose they've got a fairly impressive life. But not an immortal one.'

Aziraphale looked down at his shoes. He knew Crowley was right, he could see the boys' mortality if he looked for it.

'I haven't been letting myself think about that too much,' he said.

'We've had mortal friends before,' Crowley said. 'Even if it ends in tears.'

'Yes, ours,' Aziraphale said sadly. 'What are we going to do?'

'What can we do?' Crowley said. 'You're not going to let me abandon them, right? No, I didn't think so. Um. I hate to be shallow, but I don't want my flat wrecked. So I was wondering if you wouldn't mind –'

'Not at all,' Aziraphale said cheerfully, feeling his heart lift.

'I'll take them during the day, at least half the time,' Crowley said hurriedly. 'We can share.'

'Thank you, my dear. I'll, um, tell them to call me Aziraphale.'

'No,' Crowley said. 'We can share,' he repeated. 'I don't mind. Let's give them something to eat, all right? They haven't finished their tea.'

He gestured and there was a large pile of burgers and chips on the table.

'Boys!' he called. 'Nice BurgerLord grub! Matthew, Mark, Luke, John!' He shrugged at Aziraphale's surprise. 'Well, why not? You're putting up with them, you get to name them.'

The boys charged in and started ripping the wrappers off the burgers. Aziraphale smiled at them fondly.

'Little demons,' he said happily.

'I'm not so sure about that,' Crowley said, 'and I'll expect you to teach them better.'

Aziraphale smiled at him in grateful happiness, and went to solve a dispute over the relative sizes of slices of pickle.

Much later, he and Crowley sat side by side on his worn out old sofa, watching the late news. Each of them had two sleeping children on his lap, the boys having discovered that human form was better for fighting over how much of an adult's lap one had to share. It was going to be hard, Aziraphale thought, and it would be very hard by the end. He looked at Crowley stroking a hand across one boy's head when he thought he was unobserved. Worthwhile things always were hard, Aziraphale thought. It would be worth it, no matter that they already knew how it would end. It was already worth it.


End file.
